It started off a normal Tuesday. I knew there was a chance of a showing the house, because my realtor was working on scheduling someone interested. I dropped off my son at preschool and took the twins home. I picked up a few things but spent most of the time, playing with my girls. Terrified of arriving late, I readied the girls and loaded them in the car. I pulled into the carpool lane and received the email: Showing at 3:30. In four hours.
I was actually thrilled I had four hours to get ready. That's plenty of time. Ha!
By the time I picked up my son, pulled into the drive, and made lunch, it was noon. Okay, three hours. I could do this. Kids in rooms for quiet time. I went into Turbo cleaning mode.
There was a lot more picking up to do (did I mention my twins are dumpers? They dump everything. Clean it back up again, dump it, and run.). There were dishes to do, cake crumbs to sweep up, and counters to wipe down. Every few minutes, I ran by the twins room...just to check. Ella (pretty much done potty-training) went pee in her potty, so I took care of it and went back to work. Made my son's bed and my bed, packed some of our shower stuff and other toiletries, and checked on the girls. Still good. It was time to tackle the basement.
Thankfully, the basement is pretty easy. Swept the carpet, threw the toys in the toy chest, and swept up cobwebs in the laundry room. My son even helped me put things away. All I had left was to vacuum the upstairs carpet, and it was 2:30. I was so close.
Anyone else hear a warning bell, like Genie on Aladdin? "Warning, warning."
When I stepped into the kitchen, I smelled it. Poop. "No," I gasped. I left the vacuum in the kitchen and booked it to the twins' room. Sure enough. Both girls were naked. Both of their hands bearing proof of my fear.
My reaction was not godly nor calm. I'm fairly sure if we'd had a dog, it would've been whimpering from my shrill high-pitched shrieking. Addy burst into tears, and I didn't blame her. Ella had left handprints down her back and in her hair. "Ella, no! Look what you did to Sissy. Icky! No!"
Ella faced me, her eyebrows raised in surprise (yeah, right!), and she stated calmly, "Sorry, Mommy!" Well, sorry didn't cut it. I just left her there while I tended her sobbing sister, afraid to see the damage done. The smell was bad enough. I didn't know what to do. I didn't have time to give them both baths, scrub down their room, wash the bathtub, and get out of dodge in an hour. Instead, I settled for standing over the sink, and in 20 minutes, I had both girls clean, dressed, and loaded in the van with their brother to watch Aladdin.
Too chicken to tackle the room, I vacuumed the carpet and made sure everything else in the house was perfect. Then I surveyed the wreckage. Too my astonishment, it wasn't so horrible. Having cleaned up the twins left me with little to clean up. I snatched up Lysol wipes and scrubbed down the plastic bed frames and little potty (which contained most of the mess). Then I frantically ripped off the old bedding and remade the beds (thankfully, I saved that for last).
Everything was perfect...except the smell. That's when I remembered a can of air freshener beneath the kitchen sink. I started in the twins' room and ran throughout the upstairs, spraying the sweet scent of Apple Cinnamon. When I finished, I walked through the upstairs one more time to make sure I got out all the smell. I hopped in the car and took off to join my mom at my sister's house. It was 3:07 p.m. I made it!
Needless to say, if all the showings are that exciting, this may be a really long stage of life.
But at least it made a good story to share with you.
What's your craziest house showing you had?